


A Drop of Blood

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner
Genre: Caretaking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Alec confronts his feelings after Richard is badly injured.





	A Drop of Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asktheravens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asktheravens/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, asktheravens! I was excited to get a chance to write about these two. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Two men lay in the snow, their blood staining it red. It was a sight Alec was unaccustomed to seeing. Usually, there was only one man bleeding—they generally did that when they died. Richard seldom bled, and if he did, he had the grace not to lie down to do it. 

Usually, it was exciting when Richard bled—it meant it had been something of a fight, that the other man had been a worthy enough opponent to draw blood. Those were good fights; they usually lasted a long while and were worth the trouble of going out. 

He hadn't realized Richard could bleed so much.

Alec found he was transfixed by the seeping red. Neither man was moving, though he was certain the other was dead. He tried to force himself to move but his legs were locked in place, heavy, numb. He had never envisioned an outcome in which Richard died. If Richard died, he would have to move, go somewhere else. 

"Come now." Someone—Ginnie—put her hand on his arm and led him away. "They'll get him home." 

There were men, he could now see, lifting Richard and carrying him through the muddy streets. Alec followed, like a funeral procession. Everything had taken a serious turn which didn't suit him. He'd become very accustomed to the life he was leading, and he didn't want it to end suddenly like this. 

They carried him upstairs and laid him on the bed. Alec felt self-consciously extraneous now that there were so many people up here in Richard's rooms, seeing where they lived and had sex. He had never been ashamed, but he thought maybe he ought to be.

He stood by the window, watching the street outside. The snow was still falling and he could see where it was covering some of where Richard's blood had dripped on their progress back to Marie's. He wondered if anyone had moved the body of the dead man, what his friends were thinking now. It wasn't something he'd ever really confronted about the way they lived. He liked to see Richard fight, and he liked to see blood, was fascinated by the quick brutality of it. He admired Richard's talents; on one level, he liked the absurdity of it. People were always willing to fight him, even though they knew perfectly well who he was. Were there really that many delusional people? Was he, Alec, delusional for thinking Richard was really unbeatable? 

_The other man died_ , he reminded himself. _Richard's not dead, at least not yet._ A doctor had been sent for; he would be patched up in no time. 

So, why, he wondered, was he still bothered?

He crossed his arms over his chest and watched through the hair that had come loose from its tie. The doctor was there now, and Alec wondered how they had found someone so quickly. No one was looking at him or talking to him. He truly was extraneous, and he was surprised by how much that pained him. Did these people—they were Richard's friends, if they were even that, not his at all—see him as a permanent fixture or something more temporary, something that mattered less? It felt like an intrusion into their private life, even though they had not gone to great lengths to hide it. Alec wrapped himself tighter in his cloak and leaned against the wall to wait for everyone to go. 

"Will you be all right?" Ginnie asked seriously. The men and the doctor had left, but she lingered. Alec surmised that she didn't want to stay, but felt obligated to ask him. 

Alec took that to mean that Richard was not too badly injured; they certainly wouldn't be leaving him there if he were dead. 

"I'll be fine," he said. 

"Good."

The door shutting sounded ominously loud and it made the room seem colder. 

"Richard?" he said, moving over to the bed. "Richard, are you all right?"

His answer was a groan. 

Alec sat on the edge of the bed. They had torn his shirt most of the way off and his chest was bandaged. Alec remembered then the slash across his chest. It had come in the same stroke with which Richard had run the other man through. 

He reached out tentatively for Richard's hand. "Is there anything I can do?"

Richard opened his eyes. "Just stay there and let me look at you."

Alec frowned. This seemed supremely unuseful. "Do you want something?"

"Oh." He winced. "Water. I'd like some water, please, Alec."

Alec sprang up. Water. Where did he get water? There was still some in the pitcher from the morning and he filled a mug. "Here. Do you need help sitting up?" 

Richard braced himself on his elbows and tried, but his face twisted. Alec was surprised by how alarming this was to witness. 

_Fool!_ Why was he worried about himself? Richard was the injured one. 

"Here." He reached for the other pillow. "Can you sit up for just a second?" 

Richard didn't answer. Still wincing, he levered himself up just long enough for Alec to rearrange the pillows so that he was half sitting up. 

"I don't think I like this."

"Of course not. You don't like failing." 

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Did I fail?"

"To not get injured." Alec turned his head away, letting his hair fall back over his face. "You don't get injured."

"Well, I did this time." Richard poked tentatively at the bandage around his chest. "You look worse than I do."

Alec tensed. "What do you think I thought, seeing you lying there like you could have been dead?"

"What _were_ you thinking?"

Alec got up again. Was it bothering Richard to have him sit on the bed, putting that dip in the mattress? "I was thinking about how rude you would be to go and do that to me. Die."

Richard shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. "Well, you should be happy that I didn't, then."

He should have been, he knew that. It should have come as a great relief to have Richard alive. And it was. He didn't like the way he felt.

He crossed the room, realizing belatedly that he had no reason for doing anything there. He busied himself with rearranging things on the table, conscious of Richard's eyes on him. Ordinarily, it would have pleased him to be watched and he would have gone slowly about the room doing pointless things, just for the sake of Richard's hungry gaze. But this felt as hollow as he'd felt for the past several hours. Had it been hours?

"Are you hungry?" he asked. Would Richard want to eat? Should he eat?

"I'm not," Richard said, "but if you are, go and get something. I don't need anything." 

Alec didn't know if he was hungry, but he went out anyway, taking as long as was reasonable to order some fish and bring it back. It was on this sojourn that he identified the hollow feeling.

It was guilt.

Richard was lying in bed with his eyes closed when Alec returned, and he had to make sure his chest was still rising and falling. He sat down in a chair by the bed to eat.

"That smells good," Richard said without opening his eyes. "Where did you get it?"

"Around the corner. That new place."

Richard nodded. "Is it good? We've walked by, but we've not gone in."

"It's decent. Do you want some?"

"No. I don't want to eat. Not that at least."

Alec jumped up again. "What do you want to eat, then?" 

Richard frowned. He didn't seem like himself; he actually looked ill. "Something light?"

Alec went out again without a second thought and it was only once he was down in the street that he remembered to check to make sure he had some money. Where did one get something light? He finally went back to the place he'd gotten the fish and asked if they could make him some porridge. 

Richard looked grateful when he returned; there was a dullness in his expression that suggested he actually appreciated what Alec was doing, rather than humoring him for treating him like an invalid. "Exactly what I needed."

"Do you… need me to feed you?" he asked hesitantly.

"I think I can manage that. Just give me something to put it on."

When he'd gotten Richard set up, Alec sat again in his chair by the bed and resumed watching him. He moved slowly in a way Alec didn't like. It made him seem vulnerable. 

"You were worried about me," Richard said matter of factly. 

"All right, yes." Alec threw off his cloak. "I was. I don't want you to die."

"That's heartening to hear."

"You know what I mean."

"I do," Richard agreed. He paused, letting the spoon fall against the side of the bowl. "I don't like it either, you know. I feel useless. Like I'm slipping."

"You're not useless. And you're not slipping. He was good. I've watched enough of your fights to know when someone's good."

"Thank you for trying to make me feel better." 

Alec smiled for the first time. "You're impossible. Nothing less than perfection."

Richard settled back on his pillows. "Which is why I have you."

The knowledge that Richard must really value him broke like warm relief in Alec's chest. He tried not to let it show outwardly. "I'm far from perfect."

"A flawed sort of perfect, then." He extended his hand. "Come here. Get rid of this. It's terrible." 

Alec took the bowl and settled himself on the edge of the bed. He wasn't worrying about the dip anymore "You seem to be doing better."

Richard shifted and winced. "Not really." 

"Then you need me, don't you?" Alec pressed his lips to Richard's temple. "To take care of you, until you're better?"

"I may need some help until I heal." He sighed. "I don't know what we'll do about money." 

"We'll manage." Alec felt the mantle of responsibility settling over him. "Come, let me see your dressing." It hadn't been long but he was suddenly concerned 

"Will you change it if it's not?"

"Yes." He would figure out how. "And let's get you changed into something more comfortable. They didn't even take your clothes off." 

Richard gave a small smile. "If you think it's wise." 

Alec grunted. He knew by now that Richard was trying to make it seem like he was having Alec on, but the fact that he couldn't help very much when Alec was undressing him reinforced Alec's suspicion that he was really hurting. 

"They left some medicine," he said. "If you'd like to take it."

Richard's face gave a dissatisfied twist. "It'll make me go to sleep."

"I'll be here." 

Richard's face softened. "Will you? All right, then. Let's try it. Maybe I won't feel as though I've been cut in two when I wake up."

Alec got the medicine and another drink of water. "It wouldn't have happened if you'd been more careful."

"Wouldn't it have? The thought never crossed my mind."

Now he found he wanted Richard to go to sleep, though he tried very hard not to just shove the cup under his face.

"Thank you." Richard drank, then settled back against the pillows. "Do stay. I really might need you." 

He didn't seem to be teasing there. He was serious. 

"I'm not going anywhere." Alec stretched out on the bed beside Richard and felt Richard's hand slide into his. He squeezed it. A moment later, Richard was asleep.


End file.
